


Behind the Mask

by CrowleyLovesUSUK



Series: Crowley Makes You Sin [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2020, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bobby Singer in a Wheelchair, Explicit Language, Fluff, Implied Bobby/Crowley (Crobby), M/M, Masks, Mentions of Various Supernatural Characters - Freeform, Minor Animal Injury, Quarantine, Romantic Fluff, social distancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:15:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24237901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowleyLovesUSUK/pseuds/CrowleyLovesUSUK
Summary: In 2020, while the world is on lockdown from the coronavirus outbreak, Dean Winchester meets his attractive neighbor for the first time. Because of the restrictions, they’re both wearing masks every time that they encounter one another. It’s just Dean’s luck that Castiel has the most electric blue eyes that Dean has ever seen. He might have fallen for the man’s enchanting and charged gaze, but what Dean really wants is to see what lies behind Castiel Novak’s mask...
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Crowley Makes You Sin [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1029626
Comments: 30
Kudos: 122





	Behind the Mask

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YyoatiCas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YyoatiCas/gifts).



> This fic is a gift from my friend, Angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat, who is getting back into writing. I know that sometimes it sucks and it's hard AF, but you have such great stories to tell--Don't give up! You're doing great, and any doubt you may have is a lie. You rock!! I can't wait to read more of your work in the future.
> 
> So I had unexpected eye surgery a week ago and was told that I needed to wait a week to read (both on my phone and regular paper books). I also wasn't allowed to look at a small screen often, so I couldn't write. 
> 
> It was torture, let me tell you.
> 
> Anywho, once I got the all clear, I pounded this out just because I NEEDED to do something and the other WIPs I had weren't speaking to me. I have no idea where this came from, but apparently I'm jumping on the coronavirus 2020 fic bandwagon. I hope you're all staying safe out there too! Wear your masks!!
> 
> There is a minor doggo injury in this fic, but I promise you that its not serious and that the dog in question is just fine. No animals were harmed in the writing of this fic.
> 
> Fun Fact: The doggo in the cover photo is actually my late hound, Rambo. He was the sweetest and biggest baby of all time and I miss him. I modelled Rum's character after Rambo too. Sweet bimble, RIP buddy.
> 
> There is no explicit smut in this either, it is rated M mostly for language. Dean likes to drop F-Bombs (what can I say, so do I)...  
> HOWEVER, I am toying with doing a timestamp of smut for this at a later date. I'm not promising anything though. 
> 
> That's all, hope you enjoy kiddos!!

When the coronavirus began to spread, Dean Winchester deleted all of his dating profiles. 

He could see what was coming down the pike, and as much as his brother, Sam, would tease him about being a ‘man whore,’ Dean knew there were more important things than getting laid. Preparing for the inevitable, he had a feeling that in the coming months, there wouldn’t be much _dating_ going on. Turned out that he was absolutely right. People were focusing on their families and their health, rather than who they could pick up at a local bar while there was still time. Eventually, the country went into varying degrees of quarantine and traditional social and dating rituals were now a thing of the past. 

Surprisingly, Dean found that he didn’t care all that much. 

By the time that the lockdown became official, it was still freezing in Sioux Falls. Snow, combined with icy winds, meant that whenever Dean left his apartment to go to the grocery store, or grab his mail, he was bundled up from head to toe. The mask was a must, seeing as he was still in contact with his Uncle Bobby for the time being. There was no way that he was risking Bobby’s health. The mask was a necessity.

After Bobby’s accident, Dean had taken it upon himself to care for his wheelchair bound uncle—driving him to doctor’s appointments and helping around the house. In all honesty, he really just used his apartment to sleep, and that was only because there wasn’t a spare room at Bobby’s any longer. The cramped bedroom that Dean had shared with his brother once upon a time had been converted into a physical therapy room. Nowadays, Dean only crashed there when the snow was too deep for his ‘67 Impala to drive through. 

The mask might look ridiculous, but it wasn’t like he was the only one running around with one. Most of the people that Dean encountered throughout the day were wearing one, and for that he was grateful. Sure, they were confining, and the few times that he had to wear his reading glasses with one on, they fogged up, which was beyond irritating—but he refused to complain. Wearing a mask could be the thing that kept Uncle Bobby safe. 

The only thing that Dean _wasn’t_ a fan of, was how much the masks _concealed_ . He didn’t even consider the fact that people’s facial features could be so distorted by a mask that covered the mouth and nose, until he met _him_.

Dean had been running late, he had to gas up his car and get over to Bobby’s in order to drive his uncle to a doctor’s appointment, and he was rushing. When the elevator doors opened, he’d barreled out without looking and crashed directly into another person. They both tumbled to the ground with twin grunts from the momentum.

“Oh, fuck, I’m really sorry.” Those were the first words that Dean spoke to the man of his dreams. 

He’d reached out and helped the guy to his feet, brushing at the man’s rumpled tan coat. When they were both standing, Dean looked into the guy’s eyes and he was _lost_.

The man was just a touch shorter than Dean, with a wool hat pulled down over his head, obscuring any view of the man’s hair. His jacket was actually a trench coat on closer inspection—probably too thin for the current blizzard outside. And he was wearing a cloth mask with a print of honeycombs and bumblebees scattered across it. 

But what Dean really noticed was the electric blue of the stranger’s eyes. The only piece of his face that was truly visible, and they were _stunning_!

They were the blue of the ocean off of a tropical island, crystalline and bright. Or the shade of turquoise that Dean would sometimes see for a split second when he woke in the morning before his eyes adjusted. They were shocking. 

Behind his own mask, Dean’s lips parted but no words came out. His mind was a complete blank filled with no other thought than, ‘ _Blue.’_ That intense gaze was scrutinizing, until the corners around the guy’s eyes relaxed a fraction and he said, “Don’t mention it,” in a deep, gruff tone. 

_Ah, fuck—that voice!_

Dean was well and truly screwed. He had a sneaking suspicion that he was going to have some sleepless nights because of that voice. It’d be worth it. “I really am sorry,” he managed finally. “I’m just in a rush, I’ve got an appointment.”

The man’s eyes shifted and narrowed for a moment until Dean finished with, “My uncle Bobby needs to see the doctor and I’m the only one who knows how to drive the wheelchair van.”

“It’s fine, really,” the guy said. “I’m just happy that you’re doing something important and not just going out for no reason.” He sighed deeply. “Social distancing and limiting our time spent in public areas is very important.” Before Dean could do anything more than nod, the man said, “Well, I won’t keep you. Watch yourself on the road though—if you drive anything like how you exit an elevator it could be dangerous and I’d rather not see you in the hospital.”

The guy turned and hurried into the elevator. As the doors slid shut, Dean allowed himself one last glance at those perfect blue eyes. It wasn’t until he was in the car and halfway to Bobby’s before he realized that Hottie McBlueEyes had implied that he was concerned for Dean’s safety. That was excellent news, despite their meeting. Hopefully that meant that he hadn’t blown it. First impressions were everything, and Dean _definitely_ wanted to see the man again. He’d give just about _anything_ to see him. Dean wrinkles his nose in contemplation. That sounded a lot like a crush, and he hadn’t even managed to get the guy’s name. _‘Well, fuck.’_

For the rest of the day, Dean did all that he could to be helpful for his uncle through the doctor’s visit and again when they got home and began Bobby’s physical therapy. As they worked on stretching Bobby’s atrophied muscles, Dean kept up a steady stream of small talk that he hoped would fool the man who’d raised him. He knew it was a lost cause, but Bobby must have taken pity on him, because no word was uttered about Dean’s odd behavior until it was time for him to head home. 

“Whatever’s eating you, figure out how to deal,” Bobby said as he sat in his chair looking grumpy. “I don’t want you dropping me when you come by tomorrow, ya hear?”

“Got it Bobby,” Dean said, knowing that the old man was teasing him. “It’s nothing. I’ll be fine in the morning.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were in love,” Bobby mused. “But that would be crazy, wouldn’t it?”

“Love?” Dean scoffed. “Absolutely crazy, yeah.”

“Uh huh,” Bobby said, eyeing him. “Go on then, get home. And make sure you call me so I know you’re not dead in a snowdrift, got me?”

“Yes sir,” Dean gave his uncle a sarcastic little salute before clapping him on the shoulder and heading out the door. 

At least the roads were slick enough to require concentration, and he didn’t think about the mysterious masked stranger until he was home and in bed. As he drifted off to sleep, his mind was filled with thoughts of sparkling blue eyes. 

*~*~*~*~*~*

The second time that they met was three weeks later when Dean was watching Bobby’s dog for him while he was having a minor procedure done at the hospital. Bobby would have to stay overnight and didn’t have the heart to put Rumsfeld in a kennel. Despite the fact that he wasn’t really a Dog Person, (which was putting it mildly), Dean volunteered time to keep the hound for the night. 

They were walking around the outside of the apartment in the small patches of snow covered grass, so that Rumsfeld could do his business, when suddenly the dog barked loudly and took off. He was surprisingly quick and the leash was out of Dean’s hands before he could blink. 

“Rum!” Dean shouted as he saw the large dog barreling toward a person who was exiting a hideous mustard colored Lincoln Continental. 

As the person turned, just in time to see a giant hound launching for them, Dean realized it was Mr Blue Eyes. Not only was the guy haunting Dean’s dreams, but now his second impression was about to go downhill...literally. Blue Eyes was standing on the edge of the parking lot as Rumsfeld jumped, and there was a slight incline behind them. The two were going to roll down the hill into the drainage ditch!

When Rum landed, huge front paws on the guy's trench coat, and the man easily grabbed the massive dog almost midair, preventing them from hitting the ground, Dean was beyond shocked. He approached carefully as the man lowered Rum to the ground, even as his face was being covered in huge sloppy dog kisses. Again, Dean found himself apologizing. “I am _so_ sorry, dude. He just jerked the leash out of my hand.”

The man looked up at him, eyes crinkling with hidden laughter and Dean felt his breath punch out of his chest at those distracting eyes once again. “Not a problem, I assure you. Rumsfeld can be rather sneaky when he wishes.”

Dean took a small step back in confusion. “You know Rum?”

“I should hope so,” the man said, looking fondly down at the dog who was staring up at him adoringly, tongue lolling. “I’m his veterinarian. You must be one of Bobby Singer’s nephews. I know he wouldn’t entrust Rumsfeld to just anyone. Are you Sam, or Dean?”

Dean gaped. “Dean,” he finally said. “You know about me and Sammy?”

“Of course,” the hot vet smiled. “Mr Singer speaks of the two of you often. I’m Castiel.”

“Dean,” Dean said again, dumbly. 

Thankfully, Castiel didn’t comment on it, he simply smiled and said, “It’s a pleasure to put a face to a name. I would shake hands, but in the current climate,” he trailed off. 

“Yeah, that’s fine, I get it,” Dean smiled. 

“Well, I’ll let you get back to your evening walk,” Castiel said, his eyes sparkling behind the mask. Dean wished he could see the guy’s whole face. Maybe one day, if things ever went back to the way they had been. Maybe. 

As Castiel walked away, head bent against the wind, Dean watched his every move. Once the veterinarian was inside of the building, Dean looked down at Rumsfeld who was staring at him and panting. It almost looked as though the old dog was smiling. 

“Okay buddy, I take back everything I’ve ever said about you being smelly and getting fur on Baby’s seats. You’re a hell of a wingman. I got his name.” Dean patted the dog on the head and Rum gave a happy baying sound in response. “Castiel. His name is Castiel.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

When Dean saw Castiel for the third time it was two days after Rum had gone home. He was in the lobby of the apartment building getting his mail. There were signs tacked all over the walls encouraging residents to maintain a six foot distance from one another, but Dean wasn’t paying them any mind since he was the only person there. 

It took a moment, as he fumbled with his key—it always stuck oddly in the slot, but he couldn’t be bothered to request a new one. Pulling out the stack of mail with a grimace, Dean internally groaned at the return address of the first envelope. It was another bill for Bobby’s latest lab work. 

After the accident, Dean had transferred the mailing address for Bobby’s bills to his so that he could pay for them and handle any paperwork without having to bother the old man too often. Bobby had enough stress adjusting to life in a wheelchair without having to see how the hospital nickel and dimed him for everything. The first bill from his original hospital admission still made Dean feel lightheaded. Seven dollars for a single aspirin? It was insane. 

He just wanted to help as best as he could. But this company was the bane of his existence. No matter how many times he spoke to the lab’s billing department, no one seemed to remember that he’d set up a payment plan. They just kept sending new bills, demanding payment in full. This was the fifth time he’d have to call them this month. 

Dean bit back a groan and rubbed his eyes before flipping through the rest of the mail. His own electric bill, another thick envelope from the social security administration about Bobby’s disability, a postcard for ‘ _Bela’_ who had apparently had the apartment before him, and a flyer for a discount on an oil change—as though he’d let someone else touch his car. The very idea was ridiculous. 

“You seem irritated, Dean.”

That low rumble sent shivers through his body and Dean looked up to see Castiel watching him from behind his mask. What stood out the most to Dean was that he wasn’t wearing a hat today and a full head of tousled black hair was visible. It looked like the vet had just rolled out of bed—after a damn good night. It made something roll in Dean’s gut and he steadfastly pushed down the odd feeling that screamed ‘ _jealousy_.’ He didn’t really know Castiel all that much, he couldn’t be jealous. Could he?

“Hey there, Cas,” Dean smiled at the man who was exactly six feet from him. “I didn’t see you there.”

Castiel tilted his head to the side as though he was considering the shortened version of his name. Apparently he didn’t mind the nickname because he didn’t comment on it. “I tend to move rather quietly,” Cas said after a beat. “You don’t want to make loud, sudden movements with a skittish animal.”

“Do you work mostly with dogs and cats?”

Cas nodded. “I have a background in large animal veterinary medicine,” he said. “But I do prefer working with people’s pets. My practice is for most small animals. I do get the occasional rabbit, bird or snake on top of the dogs and cats.” He paused for a moment, “My brother, Gabriel, runs an alpaca rescue just outside of town and I do the veterinary work for him, but he’s my only large animal client.”

“Alpacas?” 

“Yes. He says they amuse him. He adopts them from petting zoos and auctions when they’re considered ‘too old’ so that they’re not put down.”

“Well, my baby bro, Sammy, says that alpacas are the greenest animal. Whatever that means.”

“Your brother is correct,” Cas said, but he didn’t elaborate on _how_. “He would probably enjoy my brother and his endeavors then.”

“Most likely.”

They both shifted their feet and watched one another. Dean could seem to tear his eyes away from Castiel and Cas was the same. They were just gazing into each other’s eyes in some sort of erotically charged staring contest. Dean felt ridiculous, but he couldn’t stop. He took an unconscious step forward and the spell seemed to break as Cas took a backward one. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“No. No worries,” Dean said. He moved to the side and skirted the edge of the wall, allowing Cas access to the mailboxes. “I should go. It was good to see you again, Cas.”

“You too, Dean.”

Dean threw the mail on the kitchen counter when he got up to his place and sighed. Why was he so awkward around this man? Usually he was a bonafide Casanova with people of any gender identity. What made him act like a middle schooler with Castiel. 

Later that night, as he brushed his teeth, it hit him. Dean really _liked_ Cas. It wasn’t just the looks—or those _eyes_ —it was the man’s nature. Something about him drew Dean in. Like a damn tractor beam. Pulling his toothbrush out of his mouth, Dean stared at himself in the mirror, bubbling toothpaste all over his lips and said, “Son of a bitch. I should have got his number!”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Encounters four, five, and six were all from a distance as both men saw one another in the parking lot and waved. There wasn’t an opportunity for Dean to request Castiel’s phone number and he mentally kicked himself for hours afterward. 

Bobby kept asking why Dean was so spacey, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to tell his uncle that he might have accidentally fallen for Rumsfeld’s veterinarian.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Meeting number seven, wasn’t pretty, but it ended well. 

Bobby’s nearest neighbor was a snarky British man named Crowley. He had a weird sort of love/hate relationship with Bobby, and the sentiment was mirrored in their dogs. Rumsfeld was a big hound, but mostly docile. Crowley’s dog, Juliet, was a miniature pinscher, and quite possibly the meanest little thing ever created. Of course, Crowley loved her more than anything and brought her with him wherever he went. 

Crowley also happened to be Bobby’s physician and would occasionally stop by for house calls, despite the lockdown. He excused it by saying that he was checking in on his favorite patient, but Dean knew that it was most likely a combination of loneliness and the fact that the sassy doctor was just a little bit infatuated with Bobby Singer. 

The two of them were sitting in Bobby’s kitchen having a drink while Dean cleaned up the therapy room after Bobby’s session, trading insults and weirdly veiled flirtatious remarks, while the dogs played on the floor. Dean could hear them, since the walls in Bobby’s old house were about as thick as tissue paper. 

When the first pained howl sounded, Dean came rushing in. 

No one knew what had set Juliet off, but thankfully Crowley had snatched her up and was holding her to his chest. The shorter man was cradling his little hell beast and murmuring to her. “That was very naughty my little duchess. Why would you be so mean to your friend Rumsfeld, sweet girl?”

“Jesus, Crowley,” Dean grunted as he walked toward Rum, who was cowering next to Bobby’s chair. His paw was raised as though he didn’t want to put any pressure on it and Dean could see a trickle of blood. 

“Is he okay?” Bobby asked, concerned. 

“He’s bleeding,” Dean said. 

“Balls,” Bobby groaned. He looked up at the kitchen clock which was always set ten minutes early and said, “Dr Novak is open for another hour.”

“I’ll take him,” Dean said. He didn’t want to make Bobby go out when he’d already had a rough day of therapy. “I will call you and keep you updated the whole time.” Secretly, inside, he was giddy over the fact that he finally knew Castiel’s last name. Cas Novak. Castiel Winchester. Cas Novak-Winchester. Dean Novak. 

“Dean,” Crowley’s voice broke through his silly train of thought.

“Yeah, what?” 

“I said, I’ll call ahead and let them know you’re coming. That way I can put my card on file for the treatment.”

“You don’t have to do that, Crowley,” Bobby said gruffly. 

“Of course I don’t you utter moron,” Crowley rolled his eyes fondly at his friend. “But Juliet’s behavior is my responsibility. I’m paying. And if you argue again, I’ll curse you. My mother taught me a few things before that crazy witch disappeared.”

“You’re nuts,” Bobby said. He smiled though, at Crowley’s common claim that his mother knew magic, and it made Dean feel better. 

“Okay, let’s go.” Dean clipped the leash on Rum, but the giant hound wouldn’t move. Rolling his eyes, Dean scooped the massive dog into his arms with a grunt and carried him out to the car. “You’re such a drama queen Rum.”

The drive to the Novak Veterinary Clinic was only a few minutes, and Dean was surprised to see that Cas was standing outside waiting for him when he parked. He was wearing blue scrubs that matched his eyes perfectly, and of course, a mask. This one had paw prints all over it. “I received a call from Mr Crowley,” he said as an explanation. “Come on, let's take a look at Rumsfeld.”

Dean carried Rum into an exam room where they were joined by a bubbly blonde named Becky, who’s voice set Dean’s teeth on edge. She asked multiple questions as she cleaned the wound and also made creepy comments about Dean’s muscle mass. She even implied that he would be hotter if he grew his hair out. Dean almost laughed at that—no way would he ever have long girly hair like Sammy. When she finally left, Cas looked Dean in the eyes and said, “I apologize for Becky. She’s my father’s latest girlfriend, and I have to put up with her...oddness.”

“She’s kind of intense.”

“You should meet my father then,” Cas said. “They’re scary together.”

They gazed at one another over their masks for a moment before Cas cleared his throat and said, “I should look at Rum.”

“Yeah.” Dean hated how breathy he sounded. Jesus. This wasn’t some Swazye movie! 

Cas gently moved some of the fur on Rum’s paw and smiled. When he looked up at Dean, his eyes crinkled at the corners over the top of his paw print mask. “It’s just a small nick,” he said, which made Dean let out a breath of relief. “I would like to put in two small sutures though, just to be safe, if that’s all right?”

“Go for it,” Dean said. “I’m going to step out and call Bobby and let him know.”

“Excellent,” Cas said. “I know that Rumsfeld has a tendency to lick, so I also recommend a cone for a few days.”

“Aww,” Dean chuckled and scratched Rum behind the ears. “You’re gonna have the Cone of Shame, Buddy.”

If a dog could look indignant, Rumsfeld pulled it off. 

While Castiel prepped the cut with some betadine and Becky readied his sutures, Dean gave Bobby a quick call and updated both him and Crowley. They had him on speakerphone and both men were talking over one another with their usual banter, but they were both pleased to hear that Rumsfeld would be just fine. 

It wasn’t long before they were finished and ready to head home. Rum stood in the lobby with Dean, paw bandaged, and looking dejected about his cone as Dean and Cas stared at one another again. “Thanks, Cas. Really.”

“My pleasure.”

A beat, and then two. Seconds ticked by as Dean took in the brightness of Cas’ eyes, losing himself once more in their clarity. They looked even better today than they had on the day they’d met. Dean wondered what the rest of Cas’ face looked like. “I should go,” Dean said reluctantly. 

As he turned to leave, Cas said, “Wait. Dean, stop.”

He whirled around much too fast to be casual and his voice hitched when he said, “Yeah, Cas?”

“I was hoping,” Cas cut himself off. “I mean, _wondering_...perhaps we should exchange phone numbers. You know,” Cas hurried on, “In case you need to reach me for Rum during the weekend.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Dean said, trying not to show his disappointment. 

“Or, if you just wanted to...talk,” Cas said, his eyes boring into Dean’s.

When Dean left the vet’s office with a pouting hound dog, all he could think about was the brand new phone number in his contact list. 

*~*~*~*~*~*

After that, Dean lost count of how many times they had met. They spoke on the phone almost every night and texted during the day. Dean had never spent so much time on his phone before in his life. Not even when Sammy went off to college and Dean played the worrywart big brother who wanted constant updates on his siblings status. He blamed the fact that they had lost both of their parents so young, but he knew that he was just a bit overbearing. 

Bobby and Crowley even commented on Dean’s phone use. They’d asked if the device had been glued to his hand and Crowley offered to surgically remove it with a laugh. Dean flipped him off, but smiled. He could take the teasing. 

The odd part about his new ‘relationship’ with Cas, was that neither of them brought up using video calling. Dean wasn’t sure of Castiel’s motivation, but for him it was the simple fact that he wanted the first time he saw Cas’ face to be in person. He just _knew_ that the rest of Castiel’s features were going to be just as stunning as the man’s eyes. He knew it. 

They spoke of everything and nothing all at once. Sometimes their conversations were deep and probing. Questions of belief systems or moral codes; whether they were alone in the universe, among other things. Other times, they spoke of favorite books or tv shows. Dean might have made a super manly squealing sound when Cas admitted his guilty pleasure was ‘Dr Sexy, MD.’ And he absolutely didn’t fall asleep that night fantasizing about marathoning his favorite show with Cas cuddled up at his side. He didn’t do that. 

All in all, their friendship was progressing between the calls, texts, and occasional run-ins around their building. For the first time in his life, Dean felt good about how things were going. He’d never dated much because he hated taking the time to get to know someone on a deep and meaningful level. Between caring for Bobby, and looking out for Sam, Dean was a busy man. 

In the past he’d just looked to get his rocks off and move on—he wasn’t interested in anything more. But now—with Castiel—Dean wanted it all. He needed to know everything he could about Cas. He wanted to see what Cas looked like in the morning, all sleep-rumpled, and grumbling over waffles. He wanted to meet Cas’ eccentric brother Gabriel and his alpacas. Family holidays and stealing kisses over boring household chores. 

He wanted the whole package. 

It was a terrifying thought for Dean, but he managed to push the fear down deep and keep reaching out, yearning for more connection. Luckily, Cas seemed to be on the same page. It was as though they were addicted to each other. 

The weeks turned into months, and finally, one day, the restrictions on contact were relaxed. Dean didn’t jump right in, though he desperately wanted to. He waited. Patiently. Well, not _so_ patiently. But he _did_ wait. He gave it another two weeks before he couldn’t take the suspense any longer. When he called Castiel that night, it seemed as if the veterinarian had been waiting for this moment just as eagerly. 

“Dean,” he began in that deep, sexed up voice. “I was wondering…”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Now that the lockdown has relaxed, I was thinking,” Cas paused. “I was _hoping_ that you might wish to...meet. Face to face. Sort of, you know, ‘hang out.’” The words tripped awkwardly off of Castiel’s tongue, but Dean hardly noticed. All that he heard was that Cas wanted to see him. In person. 

It felt as though his heart was physically swelling and he pushed the automatic reflex of ‘probably a heart attack’ back and allowed the pure joy to wash over him. “Yeah, Cas,” Dean said. “I’d really...love that.”

“You would?”

“Hell yeah!” Dean grinned into the phone, “When do you want—“

“Are you free now?”

Dean’s breath caught and he felt his hands trembling. “I am free,” he croaked. “I am so free right now. Nothing going on at all.” 

He was babbling and Castiel knew it. “I’m in apartment three fifteen,” Cas blurted. Dean was out the door before Cas had finished his sentence. 

He didn’t bring his mask.

The elevator was too slow and Dean ran down the two flights of stairs to Cas’ door. He raised his hand to knock and the door swung open to reveal the eyes that he’d been dreaming of for so long. 

_Cas_.

The man in the doorway was _stunning_! The full, pink lips looked so plush and inviting—better than anything Dean’s imagination has conjured. He had a strong jaw with a hint of stubble, and Dean wondered how it would feel against his own skin. 

“Dean.” The sound of his own name in that rough voice made his knees quake. “I’d imagined what you would look like,” Cas said. “But I didn’t do you justice. Dean, you are simply _beautiful_.”

He felt the heat of a blush on the apples of his cheeks and the back of his neck. “Damn, Cas. You’re one to talk. Have you _seen_ yourself? You’re like a fucking sculpture. Everything I’ve ever wanted, but better.”

Cas grinned slyly. “And to think, we even like each other as friends as well.”

“Yeah,” Dean said breathily. 

They both moved in unison, unconsciously. Cas’ hands, gripped him, one sliding around Dean’s waist and the other controlling his neck. Allowing himself to be moved, Dean’s fingers went for Cas’ hair, eager to make it messier than it normally was. Castiel’s dark locks were so soft, and Dean smiled as they moved closer. 

Castiel captured his mouth in a sweet first kiss. When their lips touched, Dean felt the zing all the way to his toes. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced—like being hit by lightning, but it felt so _good_ , so right! As they moved together, Cas pulled him flush and Dean could feel _everything_. It was so much more than his wildest fantasies and they hadn’t even made it to the good part yet. 

Allowing entrance to his mouth, Dean made a small whimper as Cas increased the pressure, deepening the kiss. This was better than driving Baby down an open highway, the sun at his back. This was late nights under the stars, the comfort of safety and _hope._

Kissing Castiel was like coming home. 

When they finally pulled apart, Dean looked deeply into the blue eyes that had first captured him and smiled. “Damn Cas,” he breathed. “I like you much better without the mask.”

“I enjoy you without one as well, Dean.”

Their lips touched once more, almost a chaste peck, before Castiel stepped back and held the door of his apartment wide. “Please come in Dean,” he said. “I have the third season of ‘Dr Sexy, MD’ cued up, a bottle of whiskey that I stole from Gabriel, and a pie in the oven.”

Dean gaped as he stepped inside. “You’re not real, are you, Cas? There’s no way someone is this perfect.”

Castiel smiled. “Well, Dean,” he said. “I’d like to think that these months have helped me know you. Most likely more of you than you share with people who aren’t your family. And I wanted this to be perfect.”

“What kind of pie?” Dean couldn’t help but ask. 

“Cherry.”

“Damn, you nailed it. You are perfect, Cas.”

“No, Dean,” Cas said. “ _You_ are.”

They settled into the sofa together and Dean slung his arm around Castiel, pulling him close. As the show began, Dean found himself paying more attention to the warm body nestled into him than his favorite television series. He sincerely hoped that this was the first night of many to come. 

*~*~*~*~*

Two years later, at their wedding, Dean met Castiel at the altar and lost himself in laughter at the sight of his husband-to-be proudly wearing his bumblebee mask with his tuxedo. 

It was Dean’s great pleasure to remove it before they began.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> I told you that Rum was fine.
> 
> 🍭I am on Tumblr as crowley-loves-usuk if anyone feels the urge to follow or message me. I love talking to readers! 🍭


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